


Bereft

by damnspacebois (Race_Jackson23)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Growing Up, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Mother-Son Relationship, Multi, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-26 19:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14409453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Race_Jackson23/pseuds/damnspacebois
Summary: Keith didn’t notice how strange his family was until his first day of elementary school. Just a dad and a kid, it seemed, was weird and different and not at all what everyone else had, and it was made glaringly clear from day one. That day, it just so happened, was also the first day that Keith wished his family was the same as everyone else’s.or that compulsory 5+1 fic also known asFive Important Moments in Keith Kogane’s Life When He Needed His Mother and the One Time He Actually Had Her.





	1. When He Was Really Sick As A Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZaynsEyelash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaynsEyelash/gifts).



> Hi all! This is my first time writing for Voltron, so, uh, enjoy!

_The baby was crying._

That was the first thought that came to Tex Kogane’s brain as it stumbled into consciousness. Not that he felt tired (even though he did) or that it was already stinking hot (even though it was), but that _the baby was crying_. The second thought, wry as it was, sounded suspiciously like Krolia as it asked: _are you going to go over there and find out why, genius?_

“Shit,” he cursed, his foot catching on his sheets as he dashed over to the crib and sending him sprawling to his floorboards. Side throbbing from the impact, he cursed again, and louder. Another yowl came from the crib in response. “ _Shit_. I’m coming, Keith, sweetie, I’m coming.”

If Tex thought that that would help, he was soon proven wrong. Cooing that had not the desired effect of calming Keith down, but neither did taking the little furnace of a child into his arms. He whimpered as he was lifted out of the cot and settled against a bare chest, and sobbed even more as he was rocked to-and-fro the way that usually calmed him down. Strangely enough, even as his father swayed and hummed and cooed, the little boy’s face remained screwed up and red with the effort of voicing his discomfort.

Keith was a quiet baby, not prone to tantrums or fits, and he hardly ever cried. Occasionally, he’d get upset enough to start bawling for one reason or another, and there _had_ been that week after Krolia– but generally speaking, if he woke up at night, Tex could soothe him with a cuddle and a song. It wasn’t like him to keep crying after that.

It also wasn’t like Keith to be so hot. Warm yes – the kid ran a few degrees higher than other babies did, and it had taken months to get used to it and not freak out. But hot? It may have been his imagination, but Tex swore that Keith wasn’t usually _that_ hot.

And so, ignoring the part of him argued caution, Parent!Tex hijacked his brain and set it into panic mode.

Tex was a calm panicker, though. His ability to freak out in stressful moments yet keep an outward appearance of tranquillity and peace was something he prided himself on. It kicked in something fierce as he started taking his son’s temperature, murmuring soft assurances to the sobbing kit as he did so. Such was his calm that, even if he hadn’t been inconsolable, little Keith had no idea that his father had edged past worried into near-dread.

The dread spiked as the temperature came back high. And not high as in regular-child-high, although it was that as well, but high-for-Keith high. A 105.8 temperature was something to dread, after all, even if your kid was part alien.

“Ok,” Tex said aloud. He was careful to keep his voice in that stupid, sing-song tone people used around babies, afraid that he’d let on that he was more worried than he sounded and set off Keith into an even worse spiral otherwise. “Ok baby, we’re gonna go get some medicine, and then we’re going to have a bit of a sit down, and I’ll call Mr Stokes, and let him know that I’ll be with my favourite baby for the rest of day. How does that sound, K?”

Not unexpectedly, Keith kept crying, although it had reduced by that point to shuddery whimpers. At that point, Tex’s frayed nerves would take what they could get.

“It sound good, baby? We spend the day together? Aww, I know, I know, we’re almost to the medicine, baby, almost there.”

Though he knew logically that it took a while for the pain medication to kick in, Tex couldn’t help but worry more in the moments after administering it. Keith practically _howled_ in response, and it took a good thirty minutes to calm him down to whimpering once more. And then, when it should have already started working, Keith’s temperature was as high as it had been – higher, even, than before the meds.

And so, in a blur of high temperatures and poorly executed Galran lullabies and more painkillers than recommended, passed the horrid day. Yet no matter what he did, the one year old’s fever kept worsening. The flushed red of his cheeks spread to the rest of his body. His cries cut off in a mockery of Tex’s fervent prayers, his little body not recovered as hoped but too ill to sustain more noise. He went dangerously still.

By then, exhaustion had seeped into Tex’s bones. All composure escaped him, his brain too scrambled to form a coherent thought. That calm façade he was so proud of crumbled away, unstable in the face of his only child’s dying gasps. Only one thing ran through his brain: _get his temperature down_.

Thus, desperate as he was, with no other options to think of – besides perhaps rushing to the nearest hospital, and what a trip that would be, explaining why the little boy with the 111.2 temperature was still _living,_ and even then, Keith’s heritage would make treating him hard – Tex Kogane ran a bath.

Tepid water filled the tub. Though he wanted Keith’s temperature down as quickly as he could, common sense prevailed over the gut reaction to run it cold. A cold bath would only make the situation exponentially worse. The tub filled too slowly for his liking, but in the meantime, they had the shower and he would take full advantage of it.

He made short work of turning it on. Shirt off, little boy cradled close but not too close for fear of overheating him, Tex moved to stand under the spray of the shower head. As the water hit him, Keith let out a pathetic whine that tapered out into silence, no doubt still too exhausted to muster up any energy to cry, and Tex’s heart almost stuttered to a stop.

“I know, baby boy, I know,” he murmured.

By then, the tub had filled up around his shins. Jeans waterlogged and damned to hell already, Tex had no regrets as he lowered them both into the water, hands hovering underneath Keith in case the little boy had trouble floating. But all Keith wanted to do, it seemed, was watch his papa with fever-bright eyes that were all too much like another’s.

_She should be here_ , something insidious whispered in Tex’s brain. _She cares more about her missions than her own_ –

_Stop. She’s out there trying to protect us, trying to keep Keith safe from the Empire. She’s doing what she can._

But even Tex can’t chase away the sinking feeling that arose in his chest when he looked at Keith in the water. His little boy, face bright red and pained, so very, very still. It fuelled the ache Tex felt when he thought of her, thought of how wrecked she would be if she returned to Earth only to find her reason for saving it six feet under and rotting away.  A bitterness in his throat, that nagging thought that _all the pain she’s caused ~~me~~_ us _will be for nothing if he dies_. He couldn’t help but think…

_She should be here._

He felt guilty for it almost immediately, but he couldn’t shake it in light of the day. In the few hours after, when Keith’s fever broke and a dam of relief washed over him, or even the next morning, when Keith gurgled happily, a bit warm but otherwise ok – the thought sticks.

And he found that it stuck with him until the day he died.


	2. When He Went To School For The First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos on the last chapter! I loved getting them!

Keith didn’t notice how strange his family was until his first day of elementary school. Just a dad and a kid, it seemed, was weird and different and not at all what everyone else had, and it was made glaringly clear from day one. That day, it just so happened, was also the first day that Keith wished his family was the same as everyone else’s.

On that morning, the birds had barely started chirping when he was awoken by his dad’s calloused hand on his face and a kiss on the forehead. Despite his mounting excitement (he was a big kid now, big enough to be in big kid school!), Keith pretended to be asleep still, not wanting to get up and out of his warm bed. His smile must have given him away, though, because the next thing he knew, his face was being peppered with kisses and he was being tickled within an inch of his life.

Indigo eyes flew open. Keith shrieked.

“I knew you were faking, ya rascal!” his dad laughed, scoping Keith up and twirling him around, much to the six-year-old’s delight. “Time to get up ’n at ’em, you’ve got a school to get to!”

His dad set him down, Keith’s knobbly knees knocking together slightly as he dashed off, giggling, into the kitchen, heavy footsteps and deep laughter echoing close behind. He didn’t hesitate before throwing himself into the chair that he claimed as his own at the counter. To his delight, his dad doled out pancakes and maple syrup with a generous scoop of Neapolitan ice cream the second he was settled in, and it was all Keith could do to slow himself down so that he could enjoy it. 

Keith’s dad noticed, trying and failing to hide his grin.

“Y’know, you’ll get sick from eatin’ too quick,” he said instead. His good mood coloured a warmth into his tone that made Keith feel like he was being wrapped in a hug. “Y’don’t wanna get sent home ya first day, d’ya?”

Keith’s head shake was instinctual. Getting sent home the first day? What a _nightmare_!

His dad smiled and ruffled his hair, that smile transforming into a grin as Keith whined, “ _Daaaaaaaaaaad_.”

“Am I dad now, am I? What happened to daddy? Are ya too old for that?” he teased. Keith whined again, and the creases at the corners of his dad’s eyes softened. “Go on, get dressed, you don’t wanna be late.”

And so Keith scampered off to get ready.

After he’d changed into jeans, a t-shirt, and his most favourite pair of light-up sneakers, Keith was ready and raring to go. He made _that_ particularly clear by running up and down the hallway, to his dad’s amusement. A quick reminder sent him off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and hair, but apart from that, he was all set.

His dad, however?

“Hold up, gotta get some pics,” he insisted, much to Keith’s annoyance, and he was very quick to whip out his phone and grab a few shots before the kid got too impatient. “There, all done. Was that really so bad, grumpy pants?”

Keith just grumbled, lips twitching at the corners in an attempt to smother his smile.

His dad poked him. The smile broke through.

“Come on, kiddo, school time,” his dad announced as he ruffled Keith’s hair, and they wasted no time in clambering onto his hoverbike and racing off into town.

It was a good ride. Wind buffeted the locks of Keith’s hair hanging just under his helmet, and he would have been cold if not for the jacket he’d been bundled into and his father’s warm chest. As it was, he was quite comfortable perched where he was, watching fields pass. Seeing the world shift by from that front seat was one of his most favourite things to do with his dad, pipped only by laying in their backyard and watching the stars.

Unbeknownst to him, it would be the highlight of his day, and the highlight of many more to come.

Reaching the school gates with thirty minutes to spare, they’d made good time. Other kids were milling about the front, breaking off into friend groups or clinging onto their parents (which Keith was resolved to not do, even if he really wanted to, because big kids didn’t cry when their parents dropped them off at school and he was definitely a big kid – not that he would admit to huddling just a bit closer to his dad, though, and his dad would never say anything of it either). Watching the chaos with wide eyes, a hint of uncertainty wormed its way into his excitement, and he had to squash it down quickly.

“Alrighty, kiddo, let’s get ya set up. We need to find room 1B.”

Keith was suddenly very glad that his dad got him to hold his hand when they were in busy places. It took them five minutes to get to the classroom, and they only got lost once on the way. At the entrance to 1B stood a young woman with a bright smile on her face and blonde hair pulled up high into a ponytail.

“You must be Mr Kogane,” the woman, who introduced herself as Keith’s teacher, beamed, shaking Keith’s dad’s hand. “A pleasure. Will Mrs Kogane be joining us this morning or is she busy?"

Any stranger to Keith’s dad would miss the tightening at his eyes, the way his smile went brittle. Though the teacher might be, Keith was no stranger.

“Unfortunately, we’re no longer together,” his dad explained in a light voice that was anything but, “she’s not in Keith’s life anymore.”

Though he didn’t say it, Keith heard his dad’s words for what they were: a warning. To her credit, the teacher – Mrs Remmel, Keith thought, or Ronnel – looked quite embarrassed at her slip up. Apologising with a soft smile, she ushered them into the classroom before darting off to greet more of Keith’s classmates.

“Ok kiddo,” he heard, and his dad bobbed down onto his level. A kiss was pressed to his forehead. “Alrighty, let’s rip it off like a plaster. Have fun, don’t get into any trouble, and I love you, you’ll do great!”

And he was gone.

The thing was, Keith wasn’t a loud kid by nature, but that didn’t mean he was _shy_. Contrary to what everyone believed, he didn’t _mind_ being around other kids. They just seemed to mind him being around them, though, so unsure as to what to do with him that he felt itchy and upset. After all, he couldn’t help it if he didn’t want to run around screaming like mad all the time, so honestly, they were the weird ones. But calling them weird just made it worse, apparently, and yelling at them when they annoyed him made it worser than that, so a lot of the time, he was stuck in the bind of wanting to make friends but also having no idea how to tell them to leave him alone when they were being annoying.

Needless to say, meeting other kids was stressful for him. It was even more so on the first day of elementary.

“I’m Nellie,” one of the girls who had watched him enter the class announced to him. The other girls piped up with their own names and Keith muttered back his own in response. Nellie eyed him, her expression not unkind but not welcoming either. “Did your daddy just say you don’t have a mommy?”

Something twinged in his stomach. It’s the same thing he felt before, and, as unpleasant as it is, it was far too familiar.

“I have a mommy,” he corrected, because he did. His dad told him so, said that she was far away but that she loved him and would come home as soon as she was done. Done what, he’d never said, yet Keith had no reason to disbelieve him. “She’s just really far away.”

“Like she’s dead?” another girl asked.

Keith could feel his patience slipping, so, hoping that they’d let it go, he answered shortly, “She’s alive.”

“Oh,” said Nellie, comprehension dawning on her face.

Whatever relief he felt disppeared in the next moment as her next words stuck in him like a knife.

“So she just left _you_ , then.”

Tears pricked at his eyes. The words hurt, sure, but it was the tone that hurt more, like Nellie’s reciting the alphabet or commenting on it being hot out. _Factual_ , his dad would say. A _fact._

Like that’s what happened.

(He knows deep down that it is.)

Once the girls grew disinterested in him, his day ran on. No longer filled with the excitement of that morning, he felt every hour, every minute, as it dragged along. It was almost a relief to run out of the class at the end – almost, because outside there are mothers greeting their children with smiles and hugs and he can’t help but wonder if his own had ever done tha– and it was certainly one to see his dad again.

“How was it, bud?” he asked, and Keith had to swallow down that uncomfortable feeling again.

“It was alright,” Keith said instead, shrugging.

His dad paused, hand resting on his hoverbike’s control panel, stopped halfway through booting it up. Concern etched itself into his voice as he asked, “Just alright? You were so excited this morning though.”

Keith shrugged again.

“I don’t know. It’s school, it’s alright.”

A hand, from where his dad was sitting behind Keith on the bike, came up to cup Keith’s face for a moment, and then his hair was ruffled. His chest ached with the need to say something, but he knew it would only make his dad sad. Thus, he said nothing.

“If you say so.”

And they started off down the dusty road, a lump sitting high in Keith’s throat as, for the first time he could remember, he wondered where his mother was.

It would be far from the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Lemme know if you liked it by leaving a kudos or a comment. You can even [come talk to me on Tumblr if you want](https://damnspacebois.tumblr.com/%22).


	3. When He Was Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! Both for the chapter and for it taking so long!

Yelling had become a permanent fixture in Keith’s life.

Voices snapped at each other from down the hallway. Slowly, steadily, they bled into his eardrums, sending an anvil lancing through his brain. The page of homework he was working on blurred, and no matter how much he tried to focus on it, it only made his headache worse. He soon gave up, his brain too sore and his ears too full to focus.

It was getting to be too much. That particular argument had started only that morning, but the yelling overall was constant and on every topic under the sun. If it wasn’t about mortgages or cars, it was about buying groceries for him and the other foster kids, or about the dad’s drinking, or the mom’s spending habit. It never let _up_. For someone who had grown up in a relatively quiet household, coming into the heated mess that was the Jeffersons was a real 180.

Keith closed his eyes, sighing softly. The darkness was a welcome relief from the stabbing pain light inflicted upon him, but only marginally. It certainly wasn’t enough to get his assignments done, no matter how important they were.

And they were important. His science teacher had held him back the day before about, stating that she wanted to talk to him about something. The other kids in the class had guffawed, making jokes about how Keith the Troublemaker was going to get told off about yet another thing (which was unfair of them, Keith thought, especially since he’d put so much effort into controlling his temper since the Incident), before filing out to go home. Since Keith didn’t really have a home, he couldn’t say he was sorry to be held back.

His teacher beckoned for him to sit on the desk in front of her. He did without saying a word, waiting for her to start grilling him.

“I’ve noticed your grades dropping, Keith,” she had said finally, voice pitched low so that the students dawdling at the door wouldn’t overhear. There was a crease between her eyebrows that Keith was all too familiar with: disappointment. “I know it’s been quite rough for you since your dad–” She cut herself off, the pain that flashed within Keith clearly visible on his face. “Well, you’ve had a rough time. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on getting into the Garrison because of it.”

Keith shook his head.

“I know my grades, Mrs Penfold,” he said. A twinge of annoyance ran through him as she just gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know that they won’t meet Garrison standards, even if all I do is work on them for the rest of the week.”

“That’s the thing, Keith, I think we can get them up. I’ve spoken to the principal, and he agreed with me that you fit the criteria for special consideration. We want to give you make up tasks to get you back up to scratch so that you’re ready to apply for the Garrison next year.”

Something was caught in Keith’s throat. Unshed tears fought to well in his eyes, and he had to look away from Mrs Penfold’s earnest gaze to will them back. He cleared his throat, about to thank her and insist that no, he didn’t need extra help and while, yes, it was very thoughtful of her to think of him, he really wasn’t interested, but she cut him off.

“Look, Keith, you’re a bright kid,” she continued. “And, after everything you’ve been through, I’d hate to see you lose another thing you love.”

“No offence, Mrs Penfold,” he said, the smile he levelled at her pulling wryly as his heart panged uncomfortably in his chest, “but why do you care?”

In all his years of disappointing adults with his temper, Keith had never received such an unimpressed look. Mrs Penfold merely raised her eyebrows at him, but it was enough to make him want to backpedal from the conversation, sure that she was going to make him regret his words.

“Because I see a lot of myself in you, and because I’ve been where you are,” she said, unexpectedly soft yet no less damning.

Looking back, Keith felt bad for snorting at her. At the time?

“You’ve been where I am?” he asked, tone more belligerent than he would have liked when talking to a teacher. “Really? Did your dad abandon you at a service station when you were twelve too?”

To her credit, she didn’t miss a beat.  

“Actually it was my mom at a McDonalds. And I was ten.”

She sounded more like she was commenting on the weather than sharing dark personal details. It didn’t make his suddenly burning shame any less uncomfortable, and if anything, it made it worse. Eyes glued to the desk she sat on, he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“I’ve been where you are, kiddo. I’ve been in that place, and trust me, you don’t wanna stay in it. If you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

And so, he had lots of homework to catch up on. If his foster parents could shut up for ten minutes, that is.

The yelling ramped up in volume as he flung himself onto the bottom bunk of the bed he shared with one of the older kids. Popping in his earbuds, he turned the volume up on one of the loudest rock songs he could find and hoped that it would drown out the sound.

It was moments like that which had him truly missing his dad. Not that he’d ever stopped missing him in the first place, but those moments, when strangers’ words pelted his skull like rapid fire, when he felt as if his skin were itching all over because of the constant interaction, made the ache in his chest grow stronger. As much a wish for what had been as it was for his father, Keith couldn’t help but wonder where they’d be now if whatever happened hadn’t.

Or he tried, at least. As _Fox On The Run_ merged into Ramones’ _Blitzkrieg Bop_ , his mind drew a blank. Whether because he couldn’t get the image of his dad looking so nervous out of his head, or because he still couldn’t comprehend that he’d been left in the first place, Keith had a hard time visualising it. His dad had been so strange the last time he’d seen him, hurriedly packing their belongings together and snapping at Keith when he’d asked him what was happening. It was a serious change from the smiling but sad man Keith had known all his life.

In this alternate reality, where everything that had happened hadn’t, what was his dad like? Was he smiling and happy? Was he worried like he had been the last time? After all, it was all very good to be imagining a time where they’d been happy, but it clearly wasn’t very realistic – clearly, if his dad had been happy, he wouldn’t have left him. Wouldn’t have abandoned him.

But Keith hadn’t been able to _see_ that. True, he had trouble at times reading between the lines, seeing what wasn’t said as opposed to only hearing what was, but he hadn’t been able to _see_ how miserable his dad had been. Hadn’t been able to see that he was about to leave. Was it because of Keith? Or was it because of–

… _her_?

Longing consumed him, though he hated himself for it. It always did when he thought of her, that sort of childish need he tried and failed to smother on so many occasions. Thinking of her never did any good.

It never brought her back.

And if it didn’t bring her back, thinking of his dad certainly wouldn’t do anything but hurt him.

It took him a while, but eventually, Keith removed his headphones. To his surprise, the yelling had stopped, the rest of the house nothing but quiet as the other foster kids went to do God knows what. He bit his lip.

 _I’d hate to see you lose another thing you love_ , snuck snidely into his brain, and he sighed. Then he was getting up, sliding into the desk chair and staring down his homework.

If Keith was being honest, he was getting pretty sick of losing things too. So he was going to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY!!! Look, the original idea had Tex dying and it was angsty and painful and great, but realistically, I knew it probably didn't go down that way. So I had to. So sorry.
> 
> It's kinda crap but I'm sleepy and this has been in my drafts for ages. Lemme know what you think by leaving a comment here or saying hi on tumblr, where I'm @damnspacebois! Next chapter we get Shiro! (kind of) AND an old character gets retconned! Stay tunedddddd!

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure about the name Tex (short for Texas) which it seems fandom is leaning towards (for some bizzaro reason idek) but it's as good as it gets. If we get a name for Keith's dad, I'll change it, but until then, Tex it is. 
> 
> I hoped you liked it! Please leave a kudos or a comment, or even come chat to me on tumblr where I'm @damnspacebois!


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